Chapter 23
Preston was waiting in his car by the curb. Elle heard the door unlock as she made her way to the passenger side and got in.
“What’s going on?” she demanded as soon as she was in the car, fastening her seat belt.
Preston pulled away from the curb. “We’ve had a development,” he said. “I got some clues while I was analyzing the data and confirmed in the field.”
He maneuvered the car through traffic, heading for The Manor.
“Confirmation about what?” Elle asked. She had never seen him this intense. It was like a force in the car. His jaw was hardened; his eyes were narrowed, focus, and she didn’t think it was merely to see the road better.
“The terrorists I’m tracking,” he said. “They’re tracking us.”
“What? Who are the people? How-”
“The people are terrorists,” he said. “Many are abroad, but there are some active cells in the United States as well. I and other field operatives have managed to foil many of their plans with the intel we’ve found, and they’ve started to figure it out.” He pulled up to The Manor and got out of the car.
Elle got out as well as the valet got in. “Terror-” She stopped talking with Preston’s silencing glance. Of course she couldn’t talk about this. They were standing out in the open. Exposed. “This is a hell of a variable,” she finally said.
He put an arm around her waist, hurrying her inside. She almost had to run to keep up with his stride. They were silent in the elevator and as they made their way down the hall to his room.
As soon as they were inside and Preston shut the door, he continued. “The terrorists know we have advanced surveillance methods to track cell phone calls, personal emails, etc, so they know they can’t communicate that way. In the Middle East many of them don’t use electronics at all: they rely on couriers. But there are many active cells in industrialized countries where you stand out more if you don’t have electronics, so for groups in those areas, they have to find a way to communicate that’s hard to monitor.” As he talked, he led her out of the bedroom to the adjoining sitting room. They hadn’t spent much time in there before.
Elle didn’t have time to really take it in, however. She was following what he said. She nodded at Preston’s questioning look, so he continued.
“We got intel that one way many of them were communicating was through these online virtual reality games. It looks like they’re communicating strategy for the game, but really they’re plotting terrorist attacks.”
“You mean the thousands of people playing Sub Rosa are terrorists?” Adam and all of his friends played games like Sub Rosa, and Sub Rosa itself.
“Not the majority,” Preston said. “That’s what makes it so easy for these terrorists to hide. Trying to identify them is quite a task.”
“That’s what my algorithms and models find,” Elle said, understanding dawning. “I’m finding terrorist groups.” What they were doing was pretty smart. The game of Sub Rosa was about warfare and terrorism. Separating game play from a real plot wouldn’t be easy. Yet she could see how her algorithms and models still identified them as a discrete group. They would likely behave the same way, do things that identified them as a specific group.
“Exactly,” Preston said.
“So how are they tracking us?”
“You know every computer can be tracked,” he began. She nodded. Although most users didn’t know it, each computer had a unique configuration between the cookies, IP address, and browsing history. Anyone who went online could be tracked. “One of the reasons we subcontracted it out here is because, usually, when someone tracks a computer used in a university system as large as this one, that’s as close as they can get: the university. So when you got online to log into Sub Rosa, it came from here.”
Elle understood that. Even though the CIA was sending her specific data to analyze, she often needed larger samples from the game for comparison purposes, so she went online into the game for that.
He gestured for her to sit down on the couch and joined her. “When I was out in the field,” he said, “I got intel that strongly suggests they’ve not only tracked it down to this university, but know it’s someone from within the School of Information Science who’s collecting huge amounts of data about the game.”
Elle had heard the phrase “blood running cold.” Now she knew what it meant. It was like a chill spread through her body, leaving her immobilized. Preston kept his eyes focused on her, simply taking in her reaction. “You mean,” she finally said, “terrorists are looking for me?”
Preston simply nodded before taking her hand. His large hand easily enveloped hers. The warmth from it was reassuring. “For us. We will do everything to keep you safe, Elle.”
“We- the Agency?” Elle was talking but didn’t really know what she was saying. Somehow, she felt better talking, though, so she continued. “I just saw Henry: he never said a word-”
“He didn’t know,” Preston said. “I only got confirmation a couple of hours ago, while you were in transit back here.”
In transit. Who said that? A spy, a covert operative, that’s who. How had she managed to forget- well, not forget, but just somehow overlook- the fact that Preston was a spy? That she was involved in espionage herself? Okay, she knew full well she was involved in espionage. She just hadn’t considered the danger aspect of it all.
“I- I’m just doing my master’s thesis,” Elle said. “Thousands of grad students do master’s theses every year. It’s just- it’s just a master’s thesis.” She knew she was babbling but couldn’t stop herself. Preston continued to rub his thumb across her palm as he held her hand.
“We’re in touch with the FBI,” he told her. “A couple of agents should be here to meet with us within the next thirty minutes.”
“The FBI?” Elle hated how her voice squeaked but couldn’t help it. She wasn’t a slick spy; even trying to fake it wasn’t happening now.
“They have jurisdiction over everything that occurs on domestic soil,” he explained. “If there’s a cell here tracking our activity, it’s their op.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”
“’Unfortunately’? What’s unfortunate about it?” More squeakiness.
Preston smiled at her. “Oh, the Feds are okay. We just don’t play well together. We’ll manage, though.”
Terrific. So the FBI and CIA were going to have a turf war while terrorists were tracking her? This was just getting better and better.
Elle knew her anxiety showed on her face; he laughed. “We do work together,” he reassured her. “Actually, we work well together. We just don’t like to.” He laughed again; she didn’t. He became more serious and added, “We ultimately have the same goal of stopping terrorism.”
Elle had been skipping out on a lot of yoga this semester, but she still remembered how to breathe. Time to put those tricks to the test. She gripped his hand as she focused on her breath. In and out. There was a knock on the door. Preston gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it so he could answer it.
Like the CIA people she saw, the two men who walked into the room were dressed in what must be standard-issue dark suits.
“This is Elle Paquet,” Preston said after greeting them. Each of them stepped forward to shake her hand.
“Agent Walter Sykes,” one said.
“Agent Larry Linden,” the other said.
Elle nodded and shook their hands. Her throat felt too dry for her to actually speak. Hell, they would just have to understand she wasn’t used to being chased by terrorists.
“I’ve briefed her on what we know so far,” Preston told the agents.
Agent Sykes spoke. “We’ve been tracking terrorist suspects in the area,” he said. “At this point, we’ve found a good number involved in Sub Rosa. We’re strategizing ways to narrow it down further.”
“There are terrorists here in Michigan?” Elle asked. She still couldn’t keep her voice from squeaking, but right now, she didn’t care.
>
“There’s a sizable Muslim community here, outside of Detroit,” Agent Linden explained. “Most of them are peaceful, law-abiding citizens who want to make a good life for themselves in the United States. Unfortunately, those with ulterior motives can hide within that community.”
“We’re focusing first on those who may be students at the university,” Agent Sykes said. “In the interim, we’ll have agents on campus, with a focus around the School of Information Science.”
“Students?” Elle felt like her brain just wouldn’t kick into gear to make sense of all this. “Students who are terrorists?”
“Yes,” he replied and went on. “We think the best thing for the two of you to do is to continue what you’re doing. Deviation from your routine might create more suspicion.”
Deviation from the routine might create suspicion? That meant people were watching them and knew their routine. Elle struggled not to hyperventilate. Preston took her hand again as the FBI agents watched her like an animal in an exhibit who might be about to do something interesting.
“Elle, we’ll be okay,” he told her. “We’re simply adjusting our model.”
Agent Linden said, “Our tech people will be monitoring signals that come in and out of that area.”
FBI agents. On her campus.
“Won’t they- won’t they notice you?” Elle asked.
“They’ll be in disguise,” Agent Sykes said.
At Elle’s confused look, Preston elaborated, “They’ll be dressed as students, security officers, staff: they’ll blend.”
“Will we- will we know who-” Elle began, but Agent Linden understood her question and gave a simple answer.
“No. It’s better if you don’t know them: you’re less likely to accidentally give them away.”
That made sense. Elle guessed she’d just have to trust they were there while she and Preston sat there like bait. Bait. Holy. Shit.
The FBI agents and Preston went over some more logistics before the agents left, saying they would be in touch. Preston led Elle over to the couch. He sat with her in silence until she finally spoke.
“This is a lot more than I bargained for,” she said.
“This is highly irregular for an analyst,” Preston assured her. He began to rub her shoulders. “This is the type of thing operatives deal with, normally.”
Oh, like that made any difference now. She leaned into him. Deviations from the plan really did lead to unexpected developments. This, she realized, was the down side to sampling. Sometimes you ended up trying something and not liking it.
Chapter 24
The next morning was interesting. After spending the night at The Manor, Preston took Elle back to her apartment so she could shower and get a fresh change of clothes. That meant he got to meet Marni while Elle was getting dressed. She knew Marni wanted to know what the hell was going on but wouldn’t ask in front of him. After she was dressed they set off for the lab, Elle got the text from her friend:
Inquisition tonight.
Elle had to laugh at that. Preston glanced over at her. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh since yesterday,” he said.
“I’ve been informed that my inquisition is tonight.” And it would be an inquisition. One class Marni would have no trouble with in law school was trial law.
“Inqusition?”
“Marni wants to know what’s going on.”
Preston joined in the laughter. “Can’t protect you from that one, can I?”
She shook her head, laughing with him. Not everything had changed.
When they got to the lab, Preston set up his laptop. “We have a web conference with Jack and Henry in fifteen,” he said. His laptop, as well as the one Elle had been given, had special encryptions, but they didn’t seem to be doing much good.
“Won’t the FBI know about the conference?” She imagined they had the same capabilities as the Agency.
Preston nodded. “They know we’ll be meeting this way.”
“Shouldn’t they be involved in the meeting?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Trust me, they’re having meetings we’re not involved in.”
Elle rolled her eyes. Turf wars. “What happened to intelligence being one big community?”
“We are a community. With cliques,” he said.
Damn: was she back in high school?
“And keep in mind, we are intelligence,” he added.
After Elle just looked at him, he said, “We deal in information and secrets: keeping our own and stealing others.”
On one hand, it wasn’t like Elle didn’t know that, but this whole situation just made it much… clearer.
In exactly fifteen minutes Jack and Henry were on-screen. Elle knew they could see her and Preston, too, through the web camera.
“This is unexpected,” Jack said by way of greeting.
Henry added, “Not at all the norm for an analyst, Elle.” He, Jack and Preston all chuckled. Elle was able to smile. A little.
“We think this aggression is because we’re onto something big,” Jack continued. “It’s imperative we not get side-tracked.”
She could understand that. Preston nodded. “It looks like something multi-national,” he said, “all to occur on the same day, same time. It’s too big for them to just call it off at this point.”
“We’re thinking: if we can start amending communiques, that might be helpful,” Henry said.
Preston agreed. “That could FUBAR the entire plot,” he said.
They sounded like they were speaking English, but it was as clear as if they were speaking Latin to Elle.
“We’re going to send you data from the last forty-eight hours,” Henry said. “Make that your priority. Send us the altered communiques: we have a tech person who can insert them without arousing suspicion. Elle, make sure your data gathering is very broad, so you’re harder to identify. We’ve been ordered to share the intel with the Feds: they need the information for the domestic plots, so pass along everything relevant to domestic plans.”
At the end of the meeting, Jack said, “It’s crucial the two of you stick to as normal a routine as possible. Elle, the Feds will have people out around your apartment, too, so you should be safe there.”
Oh yeah, now that wasn’t even a little bit creepy. Elle simply said, “Sounds good.”
After the meeting concluded, Elle turned to Preston. “Could you tell me what that meant, in English, please?”
“So far, I’ve simply been reading their messages,” he said. “At this point, I have a pretty good grasp of how they’re communicating to each other, what their messages mean. What I’m going to try to do is get to the most recent communications, before the respondent has entered a response, and the CIA tech will enter a response for him or her.”
“A different response,” Elle said, “that will lead to miscommunication.”
“Bingo,” Preston said.
“What does FUBAR mean?” she asked.
Preston grinned. “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.”
Oh. Elle booted up her own computer. “I guess we better get to work before this plan is FUBAR’ed, then, huh?”
They had never worked with such intensity. There was no stopping for a quickie. They even ordered lunch in (not that Elle was eager to step outside, knowing that agents and terrorists were lurking). She identified the necessary data and Preston started reviewing it.
Once Elle completed identifying all the data Jack and Henry had sent, she asked, “Do you need any help going through it?”
“I’d gladly accept your help.” Preston gave her a rueful smile. “Unfortunately, you don’t have the clearance to be taught what they’re communicating.”
For some reason, his answer stung, although she knew it was nothing personal. It was just that she felt like she shared everything with him. But, she reminded herself, this was the world of intelligence.
Chapter 25
Elle was relieved to get home to the apartment. Preston drop
ped her off, so she didn’t have to walk. He had “a meet” of some sort that evening, so it was safest for her to be at the apartment with the Feds doing surveillance outside rather than at the hotel. Walking into the apartment felt normal. Marni wasn’t home; Elle realized she was probably at yoga with Tina. She had missed yet another class. This was their last semester together, and she was missing it.
She took a long, hot shower, at least grateful for a moment to herself to think about everything. Everything had gone beyond fun and exciting to dangerous- as in life-threatening dangerous- within what felt like an eye blink. Everyone kept saying this typically didn’t happen to analysts, however. If she worked for the CIA, she’d be working at Langley. Surely this type of thing couldn’t happen there. How would they keep analysts on staff?
Thinking back on her Careers class, she remembered a piece of advice Clark had given the class last fall. If you wanted to find out about working for a company, talk to people who currently worked there. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy advice to follow in this case. Did she trust Preston, Jack, and Henry’s word? She trusted Preston. Fling or not, he was an honorable guy. He had no reason to lie to her.
Elle was feeling calmer by the end of her shower. She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and over-sized t-shirt. Tina and Marni were waiting for her when she came out of the bathroom, still drying her hair.
“So Preston let you come home,” Marni said.
“Just jump right in, huh?” Elle asked. “And Preston doesn’t ‘let’ me do anything. I’m an adult.” She headed over to the kitchen. With the open floor plan of the apartment, the kitchen wasn’t an escape, but she was hungry.
“Did you get the work done?” Tina asked.
Elle shrugged. “We made progress.”
Tina and Marni watched as Elle popped a frozen pizza into the oven. She didn’t feel like ordering in or going out, so frozen food would have to do tonight.
“We’re not trying to give you a rough time,” Tina finally said.
They could’ve fooled her.
“Yes we are,” Marni piped up. “You’re not treating this fling with Preston like a fling. You’re clinging to him like a lovesick puppy.”
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